Switch!
by Natalie J. Haydn
Summary: On a sudden morning Draco and Ron wake to find themselves in the other’s body – switched! While Hermione and the rest of them find ‘Ron’ to act oddly, they later find ‘Malfoy’ acting no less oddly.


**Disclaimer**: I am Bellatrix's stepdaughter so I can't possibly own Harry Potter and its universe, since J.K. owns me. She just doesn't know it XD

_**Switch!**_

By

Natalie J. Haydn

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Chapter 1

"Nightmare"

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_In which the proud prince turns into a charming_

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Draco didn't know why he woke. Well, obviously naturally they woke when it was morning, but Draco wasn't sure what stirred him wake that morning. But as he blinked to clear his gaze on the ceiling, he realized he woke because there was actually _no_ snoring – from Crabbe or Goyle or both – that habitually wafted through the night from either side of his bed. As Draco blinked again, he realized he was also seeing _no_ greenish color – which was the color of the light that dimly lit the Slytherin boy dormitory.

He pushed himself to sit and instinctively pulled the curtain.

_Red_. Draco blinked at the curtain's color in his grip.

_Potter_. Draco widened his eyes at the figure on the bed next to his.

Hastily he scrutinized the dormitory surrounding, alarmed.

Much to his horror as he scanned every slumbering figure on the beds, each oblivious in the first light – beyond doubtless, _somehow_, he was in the _Gryffindor_ boy dormitory!

_For Merlin's beard sake!_

Draco jumped from the bed and quickly searched for his wand. It was then that he realized he was in a _rather_ odd nightwear – which actually _wasn't_ his.

"Ron?"

Draco's jaw dropped. He was _dead_ meat, he knew it.

He heard Potter shift.

"What is it Ron?" Potter asked.

Wait. It couldn't be Potter didn't recognize him, Draco pondered. Even if his back was at him, Potter was supposed to realize the person's head that was standing before him was blond, not red – unless the boy-who-lived was secretly colorblind. Then again the dormitory was dim.

_So that's it. I'm going to have to drown scarhead with the pillow – oh how the Dark Lord would praise me – murdering the boy-who-lived with a _pillow_._ Draco grimaced to himself, carefully stooping over the – whoever it belonged to – bed and reaching for a pillow.

"Ron, are you actually awake?" Potter asked louder, sounding worried.

Draco swirled around in a breakneck speed and without delay, assaulted a surprised Potter with the mighty pillow in his hands.

While trying his best to keep any suspicious muffling sound from being heard – which meant completing his 'task' as soon as possible – and hoping for a brief moment for his victim to simply faint instead of die – because, obviously, Draco hadn't yet considered himself to have reached the brutal level as his Aunt Bella had – Potter suddenly laughed. Well, because of the pillow stuffed on his face, it sounded a bit like strangled, choking noises, but undoubtedly the-soon-to-be-murdered _laughed_.

"Ron—" came the muffles beneath the pillow, shaky in strained laughter. "God, Ron wh—what are you doing?"

"Hey, Ron is trying to _kill_ Harry!" someone laughed from behind, followed by a few other set of amused laughter.

Draco froze. They'd waked and he was running out of pillow!

Finally in Draco's panic-stricken carelessness, Potter managed to break free. Draco slipped to the floor when Potter grabbed him down, still laughing and panting at the former assault.

"That was sneaky, Ron." Potter complained good-naturedly.

But Draco was no longer listening. By then slumped on the floor, his eyes – which happened to be _not_ his eyes – were staring impossibly large at the _wrong_ image in the mirror before him.

Distasteful nightgown. Ruddy hair. Weasel face.

With every Gryffindor boy peering down curiously at him in the background.

Draco _screamed_.

**o0o**

Hermione walked into the common room to find Ron flat on the carpeted floor near the fireplace. Comatose-like.

Surprised, she hastened to him and knelt down.

"Ron?" Hermione called, lightly touching his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

His eyes snapped open. Though they were glued on the ceiling, they seemed as though they were staring past through the roof and into the clouds high in the sky. If possible, they might even be staring blankly at a flying cupid at the moment.

"It's a nightmare." he mouthed hollowly. Hermione frowned. "I can't say I'm—" he coughed and inhaled sharply, then falling into a much worse coughing fit.

"Ron, what happened to you?" Hermione asked worriedly, leaning down to support him to sit. He let out a guttural noise in reply and for a brief second Hermione thought he whined. Before she could ask, Harry appeared from the boy dormitory stairway. He hastily came over to aid. As Hermione gave him a questioning look, he raised a hand.

"Not now." he whispered, glancing cautiously at the now very zombie-looking Ron.

**o0o**

Once Draco Malfoy waltzed into the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy was going to murder him. Bare hands!

Well, literally now, once the figure of Draco Malfoy waltzed into the Great Hall, the _real_ Draco Malfoy who was now in the figure of Ron Weasley was going to murder him – the _figure_ Draco Malfoy.

…Understood?

"Let's bring him to Madam Pomfrey."

"Or right to Dumbledore."

"Maybe he's had a really bad nightmare."

Worst. Not bad, nightmare. _Worst_. Because after he woke he figured it apparently _wasn't_ a nightmare.

Draco ignored the concerned murmurs that passed to and fro before him on the Gryffindor table – the community of the brave, _overly_ _sensitive_ Gryffindors was blatantly throwing him fleeting glances, cautious and wary, undoubtedly pondering over the possibility of him being suddenly mad. Frankly Draco was pondering just the same.

Right after Potter hexed him with the silencing spell – when they figured he wasn't going to stop screaming after a continuous scream for twenty-full-seconds – and afterward tied him with the binding spell, while _tied_; Draco forced his scattering minds to gather into a corner and thought properly. He was, by then indubitably, somehow in Ron-buggering-Weasley's _body_. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew it – that Ron-buggering-Weasley was in return somehow in _his_, Draco Malfoy's body.

It was the worst April fool anyone could ever run.

The scariest, spookiest, worst-est part of it all was Draco figured he couldn't say aloud 'I am Draco Malfoy!' or 'I am _not_ Ron-buggering-Weasley!' or any other lines that'd deny who he was now and that'd claim who he was before. Every time he tried to say aloud any one of those lines, he'd either suddenly feel suffocated or cough like a hundred year old granny or lose his voice entirely. He was officially stuck in the ruddy weasel's body with no one but him and the ruddy weasel knowing. For god-knows-how-long.

To say Draco was a little mad was like saying the Pope was a little religious.

As Draco continued stabbing the croquette in his plate – _viciously_ – he caught sight of a familiar figure entering the hall from the corner of his eagle eye. Sorry, from the corner of his _evil_ eye. The familiar figure he used to see and admire – because of its fine feature and handsome face and wielded blond hair – in the mirror every morning.

Harry and Hermione looked up when Draco – in their and everyone else' eyes, _Ron_ – stood from his seat. Before any of them could ask what the redhead was doing with the fork clutched in his hand, the redhead had stalked off toward the Slytherin table.

"Oh my God—_Ron_!" Hermione gasped when Draco _attacked_.

Sitting beside Blaise Zabini in the last seat near the Great Hall massive door, Ron – in everyone's eyes, _Draco_ – seemed surprised as Draco – in everyone's eyes, _Ron_ – stiffly approached the table. His eyes widened when a shining, sparkling fork was raised high above its holder's head, and he screamed in agony as said fork was then dug into his right arm.

Soon, the Great Hall was in pandemonium. Voices were raised to a crescendo and teachers were frantically running down the High Table.

An amuck 'Ron Weasley' was stabbing 'Draco Malfoy' with a shining, sparkling, _glittering_ pitchfork.

**o0o**

Hermione giggled.

"I'm sorry." she said, giggling again.

Draco glared.

"Sorry." she said through unstoppable giggles.

"Ouch," Draco flinched away from her hand as she pressed the cloth unnecessarily sharp on his freshly-punched lips.

_Bloody Weasley. Just wait and see._ Draco clenched his jaw and subconsciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't do that." Hermione reprimanded gently, pulling Draco's hand away and observing the injury.

In the ruckus he'd erupted in the Great Hall, Ron had retaliated by randomly throwing his fist at Draco's face – which happened to hit his now-swollen lips. After they were stopped by the teachers – silenced and tied for the second time in the day for Draco – Madam Pomfrey had informed "Since Mr. Weasley was the one who'd started the fight and considering his injury doesn't seem too serious, he might as well treat it himself" and Draco was silently led away by Harry and Hermione, with Ginny Weasley throwing the back of his head a look – since obviously to every one of them he was 'Ronald Weasley', subsequently her shameful brother.

If not for Hermione's whispers, begging him not to cause any more trouble, Draco would've had turned back and strangled Weasley with his stockings.

Draco woke to the _painful_ reality when he caught Hermione's unstoppable giggle again.

"Just what are you laughing at?" he snarled.

Hermione pursed her lips with a smile, evidently trying to contain her laughter.

"I never thought of seeing you stabbing Malfoy with a pitchfork." she confessed.

Although it was actually his image being humiliatingly stabbed with a pitchfork, at her words, Draco couldn't help smirking.

"Served him right." he drawled complacently. At least for now, it wasn't him who'd felt the mightiness of the prongs. He glanced at her when she heaved out a sigh, smiling beamingly. "Haven't you work, Granger?" he blurted, before realizing his mistake.

Hermione looked at him intently, a faint frown on her face. Then the cheerful smile returned.

"You're not yourself. So I can't talk to you like myself." she said.

"… I think I'm better now." Draco decided boldly, looking away with a snort. "Just go, you're missing your precious classes." he said. As he received no response, Draco thought she did leave, but when he turned he saw Ron just a few meters away from them, standing by the door that led into the Astronomy Tower. Draco glanced at Hermione. She seemed surprised.

Standing in Draco Malfoy's body, Ron stepped forward, his expression hesitant and worried.

All of a sudden the atmosphere around them felt tense. Draco watched breathlessly, noticing the befuddled look on Hermione's face as she stared at 'Draco Malfoy' before them.

For an inexplicable moment, it _terrified_ Draco if Weasley would suddenly call Granger by her fist name or something of the kind, because even if they might not be able to tell anyone, if Weasley called her name with that look on his face and with the way Draco had acted just a moment before maybe, just _maybe_ – Granger would be able to figure everything out by herself. It wasn't that Draco knew why it scared him in the first place – she might even be a help to their situation if she knew and with her, Draco was willing to bet – but he figured distinctively he was holding his breath waiting for Weasley to call her name.

But then, Ron's gaze fell on him, sharp and determined. Draco stared back blankly.

"I need to talk to you. Weasley."

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**A/N**: Hi! :) Just hoping you liked it and would leave me encouraging, friendly comments! (still if you didn't like it and have critiques, you're welcome too) So now I'm going to wait -drums fingers on keyboard- :D

--Nettye


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